thing in the world.

"There!" cried the highwayman, as he returned after the last item of
his loot had been stowed away in the vehicle. "That'll make an
interesting tale for Friday morning's papers. It's the biggest haul I've
made in forty-eight years. Good-night, sir. When I am safely out of town
I'll telegraph the police to come and rescue you from your present
awkward position. And let me tell you, if you give them the slightest
hint of my personal appearance, by the hopping Harcourt, I'll come back
and kill you. See?"

And with that he made off, closing the door behind him, and a moment
later I heard his infernal automobile chugging down the drive at full
speed. Twelve hours later, in response to a long-distance telephone
message from New York, the police came bounding around to the house, and
found me tied up and unconscious. The highwayman had at least been true
to his word, and, as he had prophesied, the morning papers on Friday
were full of the story of the most daring robbery of the century.
Accurate stories in detail under huge scare-type headlines appeared in
all the papers, narrating the losses of the Constant-Scrappes, as well
as the rape of the jewels and money of Mrs. Van Raffles. The whole
country rang with it, and the afternoon train brought not only
detectives by the score, but the representative of the Constant-Scrappes
and Henriette herself. She was highly hysterical over the loss not only
of her own property but that of her landlord as well, but nobody blamed
me. The testimony of the police as to my condition when found fully
substantiated my story and was accepted as ample evidence that I had no
criminal connection with the robbery. This was a great relief to me, but
it was greater when Henriette stroked my hand and called me "poor old
Bunny," for I must say I was worried as to what she would think of me
for having proven so poor a guardian of her property.

Since then months have passed and not a vestige of the stolen property
has been recovered. The Constant-Scrappes bore their loss with
equanimity, as became them, since no one could have foreseen such a
misfortune as overtook them; and as for Mrs. Van Raffles, she never
mentioned the matter again to me, save once, and that set me to
thinking.

"He was a clever rascal you say, Bunny?" she asked one morning.

"Yes," said I. "One of the best in the business, I fancy."

"A big fellow?" She grinned with a queer smile.

"Oh, about your height